


do you believe in ghosts

by DarlingHazel



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Comfort, Crushes, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Paranoia, Sweet, perhaps t.... to lovers :flushed:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:56:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22664377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingHazel/pseuds/DarlingHazel
Summary: Steve's always so paranoid at night because of ghosts and aliens and things, and Billy's always up at night because of other things. They find a way to meet in the middle.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	do you believe in ghosts

Let’s be clear.

Steve _doesn’t_ believe in ghosts.

 _Or_ aliens.

He’s very much a stick-to-the-science type of guy, especially with Dustin’s insistence on facts and just generally he’s been left alone for long enough in his life to know his house isn’t haunted, and there’s not _really_ any factual evidence that ghosts or aliens exist.

But his parents leave him alone a lot, and his house is big and dark and Steve’s never gotten any sort of comfort or reassurance growing up for the dark corners or the rooms he’s never allowed in.

He’s been scared, because he’s been alone.

That’s all.

The dark shadows cave in on him when he’s asleep, they creep into his room from the halls and his window scares him because _yeah, ghosts don’t come from windows_ but aliens do and intruders as well.

But, again, he doesn’t believe in aliens.

Intruders are very likely, that’s all.

Somehow, that thought still scares him. He’s defenseless, he’s weak, he’s young.

And nobody would be there to hear him or find him.

But every night, the shadows come in and Steve refuses to use his nightlight or turn the hall lights on because that’s childish and he’s not a child. The nightlight’s not even supposed to be there, his mom took it away when he was eight because she deemed him ‘brave enough’ when he managed to start pretending he was fine and no longer paranoid after their longest trip yet.

He just didn’t want to disappoint her, he didn’t want to embarrass her and he wanted to grow up and get over it.

But the house is just so big, and dark, and empty.

And Steve’s always alone.

The only people that know of his paranoia are Dustin, Nancy, Jonathan, and _Billy._

Dustin found out purely by coincidence, stumbled in at night to creep up on Steve to plan a surprise party for El. Steve was aware he’d come, but he forgot in his tired haze that he gave him spare keys and then Dustin walked in on him curled up on the couch with the TV blasting and blankets surrounding him.

He was fully decked out, bat nearby as well as his phone and laptop right by his head, and an array of water bottles on the table as well as a good selection of snacks to keep him company.

Nancy, when she and him made up, found him crying in his closet because he felt anxiety creep up his spine when he thought he heard a whisper and his window was a little bit open and he was too afraid to make noise so he jumped in his closet and hid in the clothes and squeezed his eyes and sobbed silently trying to calm his nerves.

He didn’t want to admit how scared he was, he tried to pretend he was just remembering bad things or he fell into the closet, but Nancy saw through it. She was so patient and accepting, she was so caring and even offered to stay some nights.

Some nights, when it gets bad, she does.

Jonathan found out through Nancy, but Steve trusts him now. Jonathan sometimes joins and they’d have nice little sleepovers where they challenge themselves to cook or do arts and crafts or follow DIY tutorials on youtube or something. It’s always fun.

Billy…

That was a hard one.

Steve’s not quite sure how or when it started.

They were enemies at first, anytime they were in a room together it was almost impossible for either of the two to emerge from it unscathed or calm. Billy picks, Steve ignores, Billy pushes, Steve gets angry. Fight ensues.

But that’s not what they really came to be, because now Billy’s the one he goes to a lot more than Nancy on the days he knows the nights are gonna be particularly rough.

Because Billy’s always up at night, always ready for a text or a call and always listening or talking when necessary, never hurting. And they don’t fight, they compromise.

They hated each other, then Steve snapped and ripped Billy apart with words and then Billy didn’t show up for a week and everyone spread rumors that he’d moved back to Cali or that he was too much of a pussy, but Max knew better and by the second half of the next week, Billy was back and biting his tongue whenever Steve was around and even offering him his notes in English.

And then they saw each other at the arcade and Billy gave him a small smile at Max’s side, and Steve went wild with how genuine it was.

It was a slow and subtle development, but Billy got better and Steve kept pushing all the while trying to be as patient as possible. It’s worth it, because now they talk a lot and Billy listens a lot and…

Steve’s feeling scared tonight.

He left a window open and unlocked again earlier, and like an idiot, he left his door unlocked when he left for school and when he came back he damn near had a heart attack.

He searched the whole house (save for the rooms he wasn’t allowed in, they were locked), and spent hours looking through cabinets and drawers and then Nancy texted him and came over to help make sure it was okay. He felt bad, but he was relieved and she had been wanting to come over anyways, it had been awhile.

She made him feel better with jokes and little distractions of _hey, what’s this?_ followed by weird stuff he made as a child that she found littered around in drawers. For the most part, they were alien-related, sporty, or renditions of his parents.

They were very dorky.

And also, he didn’t believe in aliens by the way.

He _doesn’t_ believe in aliens. Obviously.

But tonight he’s alone again, because Nancy had to leave early, and when Steve found that one window unlocked later on all the blood rushed to his head and he nearly passed out because he couldn’t remember if he opened it or not.

He closed it, and it was loud.

So he’s hiding, bedroom door locked, bottom of his bed stuffed with spare pillows and boxes covered with blankets, and snacks and three water bottles by his side. He’s considering buying a mini fridge to keep in every room he uses as his hiding spot.

But his laptop’s there, but it’s charging across the room and even though his closet’s slits have been duct taped and the window’s right next to his laptop shining a sweet moonlight onto it, it’s raining and he’s _terrified._

Because he’s also heard of the Boogeyman.

But he doesn’t believe in it, because that’s stupid.

He’s not a child.

And, he doesn’t misbehave. The Boogeyman would never target him.

But, he cussed out some guy in gym yesterday, and maybe karma’s harsher than it is. Maybe he was lucky all the nights before, and he’s just signed his contract now.

But that’s stupid, because he doesn’t believe in the Boogeyman.

_But what if the guy sneaks into the house, steals his stuff, and decides he wants more?_

But that’s also stupid, because Steve knows that the man’s a sweetheart and probably didn’t even hear his stupid stress-fueled insult.

But also, anybody can come in.

The house is big, it has many windows and doors and…

A shiver runs down Steve’s spine, and he quickly grabs his phone, checking for any texts.

When it lights up all he can see is his background, a picture of him and Robin hogging her neighbor’s cat. No messages.

So he quickly tries to tap on _Youtube,_ but his hands are too sweaty and shaky and they open up his contacts instead.

And Billy’s right there.

And Billy’s always up.

Steve gulps, takes a quick glance around his well-lit room, shudders when he looks at the window and quickly clicks on Billy’s contact.

His fingers work quicker than his brain.

_Hey hargrove_

It’s simple, it’s quick, he’s taken away all the extra sentences leading into rambles about if he’s sinned recently or not because that’s unnecessary and Steve doesn’t want to drive Billy away.

A few seconds pass of just rain and no response, Steve thinks maybe the other is asleep now. He’s both happy and sad, because he’s happy Billy’s getting the sleep he needs but sad because _he_ really needs _Billy_ and he’s feeling lonely now.

He’s still scared, but he gets pretty lonely and downtrodden when Billy’s not there.

Within, like, total reason.

Because, he’s just good friends with him now, he’d like to think.

Billy comes online, and Steve’s heart stops. He sees the three dots and with every second, he’s taking constant scans of his room trying to make sure nothing’s changed and no shadows are coming.

He wants to block his closet, the duct tape sticks out too much and makes his legs bounce with fear and uncertainty.

_tonight must be my lucky night_

_hey princess_

Steve’s heart momentarily picks up, but he ignores it. He’s too scared, and the rain’s getting louder and his windows feel so vulnerable and he feels so naked even though he’s fully dressed and maybe he’s wearing pajamas but he’s grown, he’s fine, just because his parents weren’t there doesn’t mean he didn’t learn to grow independently, he’s _okay._

He wipes his palms on the blankets, takes a swig out of his water bottle to soothe his dry mouth and quickly gets to responding because he’s scared that if he doesn’t respond quick enough Billy will leave and he doesn’t want that.

_Wyd?? :)_

It’s a stupid, half-assed response. He knows Billy knows what’s going on, because there’s never a night when he’s not about to break down crying.

Usually though, he goes to Nancy or Jonathan or Dustin. Billy’s only every other week.

Billy’s still online. He draws his knees to his chest and practically claws at his bedside table through the snacks to get his earphones. Just to muffle the rain.

_doin my hair, bored_

He smiles imagining Billy curling those locks around his fingers, remembers how he winked at Steve during practice when Steve caught him ruffling his own hair and messing it up.

_Can you call??_

Billy’s offline for a moment, and Steve nearly breaks down sobbing thinking that that was it, he was done for and all alone and he’s stupid for even trying but then when he places his phone on his lap, it vibrates and lights up with a picture of Billy kissing a dog, smiling at someone behind the camera.

Steve’s heart warms, he himself lights up with this simple picture already and swipes to accept.

“Billy,” Steve whispers, too afraid to speak in the dark of night.

Even though his room is lit up, he knows the rest of the house isn’t. He briefly considers turning the lights off, because what if it stands out? What if they see the lights?

He’s scared of what he means by _they._

He feels his shirt sticking to his skin, the dark pattern of gaming controllers don’t make him look any better.

Billy’s voice comes up after a few seconds of shuffling, which Steve can only assume is him reaching for something on his vanity. “Sorry, I’m here now.”

Those words meant a lot. His heart shook with every syllable.

“What’s up?” Billy asks. So, he didn’t really know.

That’s fine, because Steve knows he shouldn’t expect him to, because they don’t talk all the time, only usually with school.

In fact, they’re only school friends, that’s it. This is stupid, and it’s a stupid idea and the rain hits some part of the window particularly hard and Steve jumps and gasps in his bed.

“Woah there. You good, King Steve?” Billy’s voice is in his ears, drowns out the noises, keeps him comfort. Company.

“Yeah-- fuck, I’m sorry. Window was left open today, door was unlocked, scared myself,” he breathes.

He wonders if maybe he should hang up, the silence makes him feel like he interrupted something but he trusts Billy and he’s on the verge of tears.

“I-- I’m really, like--” he can’t quite breathe anymore, he keeps his phone in his lap and his chin on his knees. His thoughts are broken, and he almost feels sad.

He remembers when his mom would hold him, and sing him a lullaby.

But then he grew, and then he became nothing more than a memory to her. And then he was left to fend for himself, hum the words to a lullaby he couldn’t remember at this point and hope she’ll come back one day to stay a few nights and maybe tell him he’s okay again.

Maybe just let him know they’re not real, aliens, ghosts, the Boogeyman.

_“Steve.”_

Billy’s voice is sharp, cuts through his thoughts and sends him in a mild panic. Billy was speaking, Steve wasn’t registering.

“Wanna see a picture of Max? Susan sent it to me the other day,” Billy asks to change the topic.

It makes Steve’s shoulders relax, not just Billy’s voice but the ability to immerse himself in something that isn’t his room or house or _window._

“Sure, show me,” he answers, grabs a chocolate bar quickly and unwraps it. Takes a small bite, even though it’s getting a little soft from how long it’s been there.

His phone dings in his lap and he picks it up, holds it in front of his face and taps out of the call screen.

It’s just a simple photo of Max at her first cat cafe, drinking tea with a cat wearing her sunglasses near her. Trying to look posh.

“That’s adorable,” he mutters, a smile tugging at his lips. The chocolate’s melting already, so he hurriedly pushes it into his mouth and tries to finish it.

“If you think that’s adorable, you should try lookin’ in the mirror, Harrington,” Billy smoothly says.

It’s so casual, so simple and clearly just something Billy just says sometimes. To anyone. He’s probably really used to slipping in lines like that.

But it still makes Steve laugh all the same, and it still warms his cheeks all the same and cools his body all the while. He swallows, tosses the wrapper into the small bin by his side. “You’re looking in one right now, aren’t you?”

The image of Billy just fiddling with his curls at his vanity, talking to Steve so sweetly while still maintaining some focus on his hair just makes the world around Steve calm a little.

But he still feels so alone, so isolated and still a little paranoid.

Because the duct tape is still on his closet, and it stands out against the brown. And the rain is still pattering his window, and even though it’s softer now it’s still showing the far too dark sky and conveniently there tree. He’s effectively locked himself in his room, and his bat is leaning on the bedside table but completely accessible to the bottom of his bed.

But he’s filled the bottom of the bed. It still scares him.

“Yeah, don’t see you though,” Billy remarks, and Steve can hear him hit his knuckle on something (presumably the edge of a table) and the faint noise of pain in the background. He giggles gently, doesn’t dare to close his eyes though.

“Ow, don’t laugh. There was a stupid fuckin’... thing in the way,” Billy says.

“Thing?” The smile shines through Steve’s voice.

“‘s just nailpolish…” he hears Billy grumble, and finds himself giggling again.

There’s the faint noise of crickets, it sends a chill down Steve’s spine. The rain’s stopped by now, just droplets running down his window and it should be reassuring but the silence makes him fear being heard in his own house.

A house is a person’s most vulnerable and personal point.

The best place to attack.

“Well,” Billy starts, and Steve hears him get into bed and possibly kick himself under the sheets, “going anywhere tomorrow?”

It’s the weekends, and Steve usually hangs out with the kids or Nancy and Jonathan.

But no, he has no plans because they’re all occupied with homework, studying, or dating.

“Nope, ditched in the name of love,” he says simply, lies back against his pillow and feels so relaxed. Probably should have done that earlier.

But like, he was just… he wasn’t _scared_ or anything, he just didn’t feel like it.

Obviously.

Billy laughs softly, and Steve knows it’s restrained because it’s late at night and his walls aren’t the thickest, but the laugh is precious to Steve’s ears and he’s suddenly so glad he has earphones in.

“Want me to come over?”

Steve smiles wider, rolls his eyes. “Tomorrow? Yeah, sure, long as you don’t wreck the place.”

He doesn’t really care either way, because if Billy threw something, Steve would throw something too. If he chose suddenly to completely vandalize Steve’s room, Steve would join in without a wasting a second.

He just follows, because he has fun, and he’s very much blind and stupid when it comes to Billy.

Which, he’s fine with.

And it’s just because they’re good friends.

That hung out on Valentine’s Day watching a movie and ditching their plans with whoever their dates were supposed to be that week.

Because, like, those girls were just creepy. And Steve wasn’t about that, nor was Billy.

But then Billy chuckles so richly, and Steve’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt all giddy and letting himself close his eyes. He still feels tense, rigid in his bed but considerably safer with Billy right there.

“I don’t mean tomorrow, smartass, I’ll be there regardless. I mean tonight,” Billy says.

Oh.

He breathes through his nose, opens his eyes reluctantly and looks around his room. “You can do that?”

Billy’s done it before, he’s not always able to and sometimes Steve prefers he doesn’t just so he can sleep earlier, but any time he does he’s always there exactly when he says he’ll be and he’s always so good at opening Steve up and picking him apart in the nicest and loveliest ways possible.

It’s never really contact, it’s just talking and stupid things like old movies or studying but Steve finds he doesn’t really care if it’s Billy.

And he’ll take what he can get, obviously.

It’s not just Billy. Obviously.

He’s just scared.

But he swears, it’s _not of aliens or ghosts or the Boogeyman._

Just intruders.

Only intruders.

“Yeah,” and Steve can hear Billy take a sip of something, could be water, alcohol, _anything_ when it’s Billy but he knows the likely answer is apple juice.

Because Billy thinks he’s badass, but when he’s with Steve all he drinks is apple juice.

“Okay,” Steve says.

That’s all Billy needed apparently, because in the span of a minute he’s already hearing the sound of a car starting up from the other end.

He realizes Billy was probably being quieter than usual because he wasn’t in his room. He was probably in the living room, someplace close to the front door.

He was anticipating going somewhere.

Possibly to Steve’s.

But, that doesn’t matter. Probably.

Steve just keeps the smile on his face, keeps his legs crossed under the blankets now and makes sure his earphones are pushed in. Anything to distract him from his room.

The call’s still going as he hears Billy pull out the driveway, he can tell he’s on speaker now because when he coughs to block a sudden sob of fear, he hears the echo. “You good, Stevie?”

The nickname makes him feel warmer, keeps him safe. The call’s probably still going on because it’s distracting Steve and Billy knows it. It’s only a matter of time before it has to end, though.

“Yeah,” he assures, stretches and yawns.

Freezes when he hears his bed creak a little beneath him.

His body is feeling stiffer by the second.

A few minutes of silence follow. All of it makes Steve think that maybe Billy’s not there anymore, maybe Billy’s not coming, and…

And then the call ends and his throat suddenly closes up at being left alone _again_ and he breaks into a sob.

The earphones make him all too aware of things, and he plucks them out and shoves his phone in the bundle of snacks. Doesn’t bother, he shakes with every second and his sobs are muffled by his hand in fear of being seen or heard. He keeps his eyes trained on both the window, the closet, and his bed. The idea that everything that should hold safety are things that could hold the most danger to him made him quiver.

Billy abandoned him, and he’s so sad and heartbroken by that but he’s even more frightened by the sounds of wind brushing his window and the tree right there and he wonders which version of the Boogeyman would come for him.

His blood runs cold at the sound of a doorbell, echoing through his house.

His skin is pale, eyes fixated ahead distantly until it sounds again and he jumps.

Immediately, Steve rolls off the bed and unlocks his door. He doesn’t know what’s gonna happen, it feels like it’s a long way to the front door, but he walks anyways.

Quick, long and silent steps. Careful to avoid the parts of the floor he knows will make too much sound. He’s timed how fast it would take for him to get from his door to the front door or any other exit, he’s carefully made out each step in the ground that could lead his fears to him, he’s mapped out safe spots that are really just empty or random enough rooms for whatever to not look in first.

But that doesn’t matter, because his front door’s right there and he’s hoping it’s Nancy, Jonathan, or fuck, even his parents.

And he opens it, crying, and it’s Billy.

Billy’s dressed in his usual cool kid get up, but the moment his eyes land on Steve’s face, he shrugs his jacket off and wraps it around Steve’s shaking body, runs in and closes the door behind him. “Hey, hey, baby,” he coos.

Steve practically locks his arms around Billy, starts full on sobbing with relief and his heart just kicks in in the right way again. “Billy,” he hiccups, muffled in the shirt of the dirty blonde’s.

The other wraps his arms around him, squeezes him reassuringly then starts leading them to the living room.

It’s gentle, the way he drags them both down to the couch and turns the TV on. It’s caring, the way he rubs his thumb on Steve’s temple while he fiddles with the remote. It’s real, it’s raw, and it’s nothing supernatural or scary or mean.

Billy was never really any of that, and Steve understands.

But right now, as he crumbles in Billy’s arms, he doesn’t want to understand anything, because he just wants to be safe and okay and now that Billy’s here his house has never felt safer.

It’s like once Billy stepped in, his house exploded with color and meaning and _safety._

He can’t deny that.

Billy pulls Steve up so that he’s effectively trapped against Billy’s chest, wrapped in the safety of his arms and jacket acting as a blanket against the cold living room. Billy smells like roses, it brings Steve some feeling of _okayness._

He just sobs, head buried in the crook of Billy’s neck while Billy tenderly rubs his temple and back. The TV is quiet, but it’s there. He can hear the opening to Spongebob. It’s stupid, but it keeps Steve awake.

“It’s okay, I’m right here, princess,” Billy whispers, tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair and rubs at his scalp so reassuringly. He believes him. He trusts him.

“I thought you were-- I thought--” Steve practically wheezes, nuzzling Billy’s collarbone with his chin trying to regulate his breathing, “I thought you _left--”_ his voice trails off into an almost-whine, drags out in the worst and most broken way possible and he feels weak and vulnerable and _childish._

And Billy,

Billy nods, tries his best to keep them both on the couch and then hums, and fucking…

Kisses Steve’s temple.

His breath catches in his throat, his heart thrums in a different kind of way now and he grips Billy’s shirt tighter. His sobbing is effectively slowed, silenced, interrupted.

“I know. I’m sorry, Steve. I won’t leave you _ever._ Promise,” Billy says, keeps his cool despite his action and rubs circles into Steve’s back with one finger so caringly.

Steve closes his eyes, fully lets himself get encased by Billy’s arms and nods. He feels a little childish, until Billy tenderly pushes him back a little and he lets out a confused noise.

His face is red, lips plumped and cheeks wet. Billy wouldn’t like to see that.

But Billy smiles at him, and Steve sees his eyes are glassy, and he wants to kiss his eyes or _him_ and then Billy holds out one hand.

One pinky.

“Pinky promise.”

Steve’s mouth drops a little, surprise and warmth filling him. Happiness.

He raises his pinky and entwines it with Billy’s. Lets it sit for a bit then just envelops Billy in an immediate pounce of a hug.

Billy gasps a happy ‘oh’ at that and hugs back, smiles against Steve’s shoulder.

They’re not childish.

They’re not kids.

They’re _them,_ so fuck whoever thinks that pinky promises are lame. It’s _their_ pinky promise.

The hug definitely drags out, it’s definitely not a hug by the time Steve’s dozing off in Billy’s neck and it’s definitely not a hug anymore when their legs are intertwined and Billy’s arm is right beneath Steve’s head, providing a much better pillow than the armrests of the couch.

And Billy hums, and Steve damn near starts sobbing again. Almost.

The tune of a lullaby.

_“Sleep pretty darling, do not cry…”_

His voice is shaky, unused, but it’s beautiful and it hits the notes just the way Steve’s mother used to but so much more genuine and loving.

_“... and I will sing a lullaby…”_

Billy’s voice isn’t the most gorgeous singing voice, but it’s raw and it reminds Steve of playing in bands as a child and rocking the guitar. It’s not tea-flavored, but it’s rose-colored.

_“Golden slumbers fill your eyes…”_

The lyrics, spot on and everything Steve never remembered. But he doubts he’ll forget ever again, because Billy’s never sung before and maybe he’s singing it right now because…

Because Steve would hum it in practice, because Steve would talk about his mom singing him songs whenever it came to poetry in class, because Steve loved to listen to songs with a similar enough tune in a desperate search for it and Steve would mutter the words incoherently trying to remember it.

Because Billy knows Steve, and they’re good friends.

Because Billy notices these things about him.

And he cares about him.

_“Smiles await you when you rise…”_

Steve raises his head, finds Billy with his eyes closed drifting off as well, but can feel his thumb still rubbing circles in his back.

_“Sleep pretty darling, do not cry… and I will sing a lullaby.”_

And when Billy’s fully off into dreamland, Steve places a long, tender peck on the ridge of his jaw.

Because he cares too.

**Author's Note:**

> song billy sings is golden slumbers sung by the beatles fvhbs i love the song so much :((
> 
> tumblr is nancywrote for prompts!! thank you for reading :D


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